


Within these Walls

by JackWritesBack



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Awkward, Best Friends, Boy Love, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Brave, Canon Era, Confession, Cute, Dominance, Feels, First Kiss, First Love, First Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Humour, Kissing, Love, M/M, Magic, MalexMale, Merthur - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Romance, Sexual Roleplay, Shy, Shy Merthur, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Submission, Virgin Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Virgin!Arthur, boy on boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackWritesBack/pseuds/JackWritesBack
Summary: Inspired by ‘Rewrite the Stars’ from The Greatest Showman. Merlin and Arthur are close, anyone could see it really. Somewhere in the middle of their friendship, things that neither of them expect start stirring but if it’s anything Merlin is good at, it’s keeping secrets and no one’s better at hiding his feelings than Arthur. Right? Light, fluffy, mildly angsty confession fic. Canon era. Ten chapters set over five different days.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 117





	1. ...I Don’t Have to Hide It All pt 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. This is my first fic here, first Merlin fic and the first fic that I’ve posted in maybe 9/10 years. It’s been 8 years since Merlin ended but I don’t think anyone is over it really. Please leave a comment if you like it. :)

**_I._ **

**_What if we rewrite the stars?_ **

**_Say you were made to be mine_ **

The weather isn't uncharacteristic of Camelot in the summer but something feels a little different about today. Under his fingertips, his cheek is warm. If it has nothing to do with the sun, well, it's his little secret. His steps bounce lightly off the grass as he makes his way across the training field - should he be successful in hiding his cheeks, the lightness of his gait in a dead giveaway. He's closer than appropriate and the knights are still on the field but, happily, his fingers whisper down the bumped bridge of his prince's nose. Arthur reels back slightly, looking more surprised than uncomfortable before he can stop himself. He blinks a bit before looking away, his mouth set in that ridiculous pout. Then both their cheeks are pink and neither of them are willing to own up to the why. Gwaine - of course it's Gwaine - jeers from across the training field and the colour on their cheeks heightens. 

"You were brilliant," Merlin says, trying his best to keep the awkwardness at bay. He's already collecting Arthur's sword and helmet, handing over a full waterskin and making a swift inventory of the bits of armour that have been damaged during training.  _ Bloody knights… _

Arthur's face is initially a picture of shy but pleasant surprise under the praise then, seeming to remember who he is, it morphs into a casual smugness. "Don't sound so surprised,  _ Mer _ lin, I have been trained to kill since birth."

With a huff, "You can't just say thank you, can you?"

With an equally huffy huff, "What? Allowing you to keep your job isn't thanks enough, is it?"

With a scoff, “If that’s what you call thanks, you’ve got a lot to learn about gratitude.”

They glare silently at each other then look away, Merlin busying himself with sheathing the sword and Arthur with the waterskin. There's no real malice in the glares, there never is. Leon jogs up to them, his boyishly floppy hair at such odds with the severe look on his face. He and Arthur get caught in a conversation that Merlin doesn’t bother with. Gwaine decides it’s time to distract him, anyway. He tries his best to finish up what he’s doing while Gwaine tries his best before Arthur could end his conversation with Leon and start on him about being lazy. He’s leaned up, having a laugh at the knight’s antics when an empty water skin slaps against the back of his head.

“Ow!” He says pointedly, rounding on Arthur’s deadpan face.

“It’s not like you have a job,  _ Mer _ lin. Come along.”

Gwaine rolls his eyes and mutters something before clapping him firmly on his shoulder and walking away. Arthur calls him again as he’s bending to grab up the water skin. “Oh I’m coming, you insufferable dollophead!”

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that!"

"Is that so? I SAID…" He could care less about Arthur's punishment, to be honest. "...I'M COMING, YOU INSUFFERABLE DOLLOPHEAD!"

As he passes him, Leon shakes his head, slowly bringing his hand up to cover his face. Arthur rounds on him as he nears, a glint most wicked in his eyes. He can't lie, it makes his heart skip a bit at how boyish it makes him look. He's fond of these moments when Arthur doesn't look like he's got a stick up his arse, even if it's at his expense. No one questions it anymore, his absolute lack of regard for Arthur's station - when Uther isn't around. Merlin grins widely at his prince, careless in his fondness, confident in the knowledge that Arthur will forget some of his anger in the awkwardness he'll feel in the face of such expressions of affection. Merlin, better than anyone else, knows Arthur's buttons and presses them mercilessly. Cheerily, "Here I am!"

The prince shakes his head, mildly dazed before smacking Merlin upside his head and stalking off, calling "Today, Merlin!" behind him.

As Merlin prattles on through the surprisingly empty corridors, he tries not to think too hard about the softness around Arthur's eyes when he looks across at him or the gentle quirk at the corner of his lips. He pretends that he doesn't notice the way Arthur's eyes would follow his hands or fall to his lips. He trips a couple times in his efforts not to notice and, each time, the prince's hand is there on his elbow, steadying him without any hesitation. Does Arthur realize the ease with which he puts his hand on him? His attention is caught each time by the firmer press of Arthur's ring. It would be ridiculous to entertain such things. Utterly ridiculous. So he doesn't think too much about it. He thinks, instead, how nice it feels to be heard, to be seen. Even if he's just mouthing off about nothing important. 

Morgana passes them in a flurry of silk and sequins just outside Arthur's door and, suddenly, the spell is broken. When he stumbles into a post nearby while talking, Arthur rolls his eyes and pushes his doors open savagely. "For goodness sake Merlin… what on Earth am I supposed to do with you?"

"Giving me a day off wouldn't hurt," he muttered with a grimace, stomping in after the other. He snatches and apple out of the bowl after he drops Arthur's sword on the table, making quick work of it and maintaining brazen eye contact with the displeased prince. The small smirk as he chews refuses to be hidden. He doesn't have to admit that he gets a kick out of sassing the prince beyond the point of reason. It's understood. Literally by everyone. 

When Arthur flings the pitcher off the table at his head - he barely manages to throw his arms up in time to block it - he gives up the game and gets to work. Waving the whetstone he'd just picked up in a vaguely threatening manner, "If you kill me, who else is going to run after your sorry arse, you miserable prat?!"

"Literally anyone else, I pray." 


	2. ...I Don’t Have to Hide It All pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with another chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one. To those who gave me Kudos, thanks much. :)

**_II._ **

**_Nothing could keep us apart_ **

**_You'd be the one I was meant to find_ **

Sunlight glints pleasantly off the sword as Merlin sharpens it. He likes the seemingly softness of the light paired with the light, high sound of the blade against the stone. It both calms him and distracts him from the pile of armor to be fixed on the table and the burning stare that's fixed on him. Arthur, clean skin and fresh clothes, sits across the table from where he's stationed, arms folded on its surface and a pout stacked on top. Every pass of Merlin's hand and the whetstone down the side of the blade is chased by troubled, clear blue eyes. 

"You've not the slightest idea how lucky you are, Merlin," Arthur grumbles suddenly, sharp and low, "It seems so easy to be you."

Merlin stops what he’s doing and straightens to watch the other properly. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on with his face, but it must’ve cycled through enough expressions to explicitly describe to Arthur what he thinks of that exact statement. However, he settles for saying, “Does it now? How’d you arrive at that?”

Arthur sits up. Sort of. He looks sort of half-melted against his chair. "Well, there's no pressure on you to be anyone but yourself."

It takes all that Merlin has in him not to laugh obnoxiously in that moment. His restraint is something to be documented in the history of Camelot. It takes several attempts, opening and closing his mouth, clearing his throat enough times that Arthur must think he's an even larger idiot than he initially did. Clearing his throat pronouncedly, "Wh-why would you say that? What's the matter, Sire?"

Arthur huffs. His thumb is working the edge of the ring on his forefinger. He’s silent for a minute before he huffs again under Merlin’s patient gaze. Where this patience has come from, Merlin couldn’t really say. The prince throws his hands up in exasperation. “Just look at you!”

Slowly lowering his head, his eyes even slower to shift from Arthur to his own form, “...what about me?”

When Arthur’s eyes find his, they’re a pair of caged hurricanes. His anguish is near tangible and Merlin feels a bit off-balanced by the intensity of it. Deeper, more serious, "What's the matter, Arthur?"

He thinks Arthur might've let out a shaky exhale at the sound of his name in Merlin's voice but to say it certainly might be foolish - he knows his breathing is shaky. Cautiously, like it's a feral animal and not his prince before him, he lowers the sword and whetstone and makes his way around the table. Arthur marks his steps with the same darkened eyes as he pulls out the chair to the other's right and sits. It's an invitation to the prince. 

"I'm not cut out to be king," Arthur says in a small voice, "I don't think I can be the man my father wants me to be. I cannot…" he swallows visibly. "I cannot kill people for having a gift. How is magic any different from any skill that I possess? Is it not the intention that matters?"

Merlin's heart clenches something fierce at these words, a choked out sob escaping him before he could stop it. In his veins, his magic hums and rushes contentedly, dancing down to his finger tips to reach out and touch the prince. For a moment he lets it - not that Arthur can see it - and he blinks slowly to hide the gold of his eyes. Humbled, he watches the fine gold net tangle itself with Arthur's being. His eyes grow heavy with contentment at the sight of shining gold winking on top of and in between golden strands of hair. His heart could barely beat for the fullness that seizes it as he beholds tiny gems and chains of his magic comforting his prince. Comfort it does because Arthur's shoulders unknot themselves, his jaw slackens and his eyes lid. Then they're both looking at each other through their lashes and there's a sudden heat to it all. He sends another wave. 

He says in a voice that is near cracking with emotion, "Is a sword evil?"

Lazy-eyed, "no."

"Like a sword, magic is a tool and it is not evil. You're right, it's not different." Lightly, he withdrew his magic, letting the loose tendrils caress Arthur's skin like he wished to and letting the peace he's afforded the other stay with him. "You were born to be the King that Camelot deserves, Arthur, and that is not who Uther thinks you  _ should  _ be. You will usher in a new era and unite the lands and people of Albion with an open hand of peace, not a fist of iron. One day your destiny will unfold and I'll be, right there, at your side."

Listing to the side, propping his elbow on the table and his cheek on his open palm, Arthur smiles. He says in a mild voice, "Confident, aren't we?"

Merlin knows he's feeling a bit awkward, using a bit of humour to feel a bit more in control. He's concentrating on the little cluster of gems that linger over the other's heart. Silently, he says a prayer and sinks it into Arthur's chest.  _ Do not go where I cannot follow. _ Gently teasing, "For reasons unknown, I have faith in you, you clotpole."

Having the sense to recognize that the moment is on its way out and not wanting Arthur to break it in the balky, counterproductive way that he is prone to, Merlin stands with a soft smile. He gives a nod and fixes his chair before returning to his work at the end of the table with the sword. When Arthur watches him this time, it doesn't fill him with the same sense of dodginess and discomfort. He dares to catch the prince's eye a couple times, thinking how much nicer the singing of stone on sword is with the warmth that has settled over them. 

"So, Merlin - " and he sounds closer to his naturally obnoxious self " - what are the chambermaids saying about me this week?"

With a wicked grin, "I thought you'd never ask."


	3. ...I Can Be Brave pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Here we start another day with our boys. In my head, the gaps between the three different days are wide for the sake of a nice slow burn but if you want to imagine things happening a bit quicker than I do, that’s fine. So I actually imagine that there’s been like a good three weeks of stewing in Arthur’s mind before this next day takes place.

**_III._ **

**_No one can rewrite the stars_ **

**_How can you say you'll be mine?_ **

"These idiots are worse than you, Merlin," Arthur grumbles, stalking moodily through the halls back to his room, fighting with the straps of his vambraces in his frustration. Merlin, hurrying along behind him, rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. "Sons of nobles, my royal arse… They all fight like girls!"

Because he usually can't help it and Arthur isn’t really surprised at all by the quick retort, "Hasn't Morgana trounced your royal arse before?"

It's been a bit difficult not to think about the moment of vulnerability that he had in front of Merlin but he supposes that there is no one else that he could trust with that part of himself. Their continued banter even after is something that reassures him of this. Things haven't changed between them and he's got no reason to worry that they should. Well, he's got no reason to worry that they'll change for the worse. He stops, taking satisfaction in the dull thud of Merlin’s body bouncing off his armor. When he pivots, the feeling deepens at the sight of the other man holding his chest. With a challenging cock of his brow, “What was that, Merlin?”

“Nothing.”

“Thought so.” Carelessly, he throws an arm around Merlin’s neck and hauls him up against his side, walking down the corridor to his room with his hand on the other’s shoulder. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. Not for the first time, he wishes things were different and shoves it down for the sake of posterity. They chat aimlessly, mostly about the pieces of armour that need to be repaired and Merlin's shoddy work at it - Arthur goading, Merlin protesting. 

When they get to the room, Merlin makes himself busy fetching new clothes and readying other things for his bath while he resumes his battle with the studdorn vambrace. He gives up after a while and falls into a chair, munching idly on an apple when he waits for Merlin to finish. As is the norm, the other chatters mindlessly about the things and people around him. It’s only when he starts talking about his suspicions of some sort of affections between Guenivere and Lancelot - you’d have to be completely blind to miss it - that Arthur interrupts him.

With an exaggerated eye-roll. "You,  _ Mer _ lin? What could a fool like you know of love and desire?"

Sputtering, "You'd be surprised!" 

His face twists in mocking disdain. "I really would be surprised. I can't imagine a dunderhead like you knowing what it's like, even if love is at home with peasantry." 

The other is flushed to a criminal point, all the way down his neck. Whether embarrassment or anger, Arthur couldn't say but he suspected it was maybe a bit of both. 

"What could an emotionally constipated and celibate prat like you know about it?!"

Deadpan. "I can't imagine anyone  _ wanting _ to surrender themselves to you. Me on the other hand…" Then, brightening like it's the cleverest thing in the world even though he knows it's perhaps one of the stupidest, "Say, Merlin, do you even know how to - ?" and he makes a pumping motion with his hand. 

The other looks like he wants to keel over and the sake of the jest is the only thing stopping Arthur from laughing. This is how it should be. This is how he should feel towards his manservant in the privacy of his chambers. There should be secret friendships, not secret feelings, hidden adventures not hidden blushes. Greedy for normalcy, for some respite from the tension and longing, he forges ahead. 

"What?!"

"Wank, Merlin," Arthur says patiently, "Do you know how to wank?"

Dumbfounded, “wh- I- how is that any of your business?!”

Smug, “You seem unsure.” Does he really want to know though? He’s all too aware of what the imagery could do to him. Is he really willing to break himself to bits like this now? In front of Merlin? 

Normal. Normal, normal, normal. For the sake of all that should be normal… Getting to his feet, he drawls, tossing the cleaned apple core on the table, “Do you need me to explain it to you?”

“I know how!” Merlin tosses a balled up tunic at him that he doesn’t bother to avoid as it flies high and left of him anyway. He has to keep his gaze on the very edge of Merlin’s earlobe. The flush all over his face is entirely too distracting. "Not that it's any of your bloody business, you arse!"

“Love and desire go hand in hand, so, who is it?” What...on  _ Earth _ is he doing? Preparing himself for another kind of destruction, “C’mon, Merlin. We’re sort of friends. You can tell me.”

But Merlin is beyond words, sputtering and making meaningless noises while gesturing hopelessly. Arthur thinks that the secret is either much too embarrassing or perhaps much too dangerous to share. Could it be that Merlin fantasizes about someone that  _ he _ thinks Arthur fancies? The thought only makes him grin wider with how laughable it is.

“C’mon,  _ Mer _ linnnnnnn, tell us.” Arthur swaggers forward carelessly, holding his hand mockingly over his heart and also maybe for safety’s sake. “Who gets you hot behind those ridiculous ears and those ridiculous neckerchiefs, hm? Who makes you shiver when you’re alone at night? Makes an idiot like you moan and writhe when no one can see you?” He can’t tell who’s warmer under their collar at this point but Merlin is locked in place, jaw clenched and quivering. Maybe he’s pushed them both too far but maybe Arthur uses the tension between them to maintain some distance - he’ll never properly admit to it. “Who - ”

“You!” Merlin bellows.

Arthur shuts his mouth with a sharp snap. His poor plan crashes down around his ears, pieces of it shattering and boring into him, dicing him into something almost unrecognizable. 

The other sounds like all the pieces of him when he says, “It’s you.”


	4. ...I Can Be Brave pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m dedicating this chapter to HicSuntDracones who gave me my first comment. The talk isn’t as extensive as you’d maybe like it but I hope you like it anyway.

**_IV._ **

**_Everything keeps us apart_ **

**_And I'm not the one you were meant to find_ **

The silence is a palpable weight between them. Neither one of them could call it awkward, exactly, but there was something uncomfortable about the way it sits. The light through the window bridges the paces between their feet but neither move. Arthur thinks that if he could stop time he would. He would freeze time and flee. Freeze everything and flee. These buried feelings clamour at his insides, finding purchase on his weakness and heaving themselves out of the pit he kicked them into.

Merlin must’ve seen something on his face because he's suddenly a mere breath away, one hand on his armour, the other on his nape and their foreheads knocking together. "Don’t you feel  _ this _ ?” He pleads, “And don't lie to me. I see the way you look at me sometimes…"

He's never really been this close to someone before, not like this. He's had his space crowded in battle, when being dressed but never with this kind of affection. He could count the pores on Merlin's upper lip where he shaved, could count the pieces of peeling skin on his chapped lips -  _ Merlin's lips. _ Hands have never gripped his armour like this outside of battle. Arthur wishes there was no armour, wishes it was just the light material of his tunic so he could feel the warmth of these hands through the fabric. He can't allow himself to wish there was no tunic, just skin. It would all be too much. Too much to wish for. Too much to consider. Just too much. His fingers close tight over the back of Merlin's neck, plaiting themselves into the short hair he finds there, the other hand coming up to fist his scarf. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Merlin is...right there, so close, so dear, all cheekbones and ears. There's a dull throbbing of awareness of where their foreheads are pressed together. Somehow, he finds his voice. "If I respond in kind to your affections, what then, Merlin?"

"Sire?" Merlin draws back and his face folds in confusion. A bolt of lightning goes through Arthur at the honorific. 

"What then?" He presses, pulling him back into his space, "I am the crowned prince of Camelot and you are my manservant. If I were to...return your affections, would you be comfortable being a secret?" Merlin looks horrified at best. "Would you be happy to never allow our relationship to leave this room? You would not be allowed to touch me in public. Hold me. Kiss me. Nor I you. You cannot look upon me with affection, not even for a moment." His throat tightened as he considered the possibilities. "You cannot speak to me lovingly, use no endearment. Nothing outside of this room. Every moment we spend together outside must be tense, careful, calculated. We cannot slip. Ever. You cannot tell anyone. You will never marry me. I could never just  _ be _ the man that you love. Even when I am king…"

"Arthur…" This is not a plea for him to stop, Arthur knows that. It's emboldened with raw sympathy. Of all the things that could make him feel worse...it's Merlin's selfless pity. 

"Even when I am king, I cannot do it because it’s just not done. I cannot risk losing the respect of my people.”

Merlin responds hotly, fingers clenching in blond hair, “Your people love and respect you because you are you. They will respect your choice.”

“Can you watch me take a queen?” Merlin flinches at the swift counter. “Is that all that you want for yourself?" He can't keep the hurt out of his voice. It's a soft, shriveled thing hanging in the back of his throat. "Is that all that you think you deserve?" The implication of what he thinks hangs heavy in the silence after. 

Merlin's rebuttal to his words is a kiss so tender, it makes his eyes flutter shut. Fingers light as butterflies brush his jaw and cage its line behind them. His whole body sighs. It's so gentle he's not allowed to be surprised. His desire to freeze time returns doubled just to keep this alive a bit longer. This kiss is there one moment then it’s gone. Clear blue eyes find his, searching with that uncharacteristic wisdom that he hasn't really felt comfortable associating with his foolish manservant. Everything about this face, mere moments from his, sends a thrill of cracks through his resolve. He measures the passing time in the soft brushes of fingers on his cheekbones. If Merlin knows how scattered Arthur feels watching him lick his lips, he doesn't give any indication. As calm as ever he says, "Maybe not but I can give  _ you _ the love that  _ you _ deserve."

In but a whisper, “How do you know what I deserve?”

"You deserve the world," Merlin murmurs, leaning in to rub his nose against Arthur's, "The sun. The moon. The stars. There are few men as great as you, Arthur. Few men who could ever have such a good heart. The list of what you deserve is unending." 

Somehow Arthur's hand finds the room to come up between them and his fingers hook themselves on the other's jaw, his thumb brushing a slow, sad apology into a plump lower lip. “Merlin…”

The addressed finds his way around Arthur’s thumb to press another kiss. This one does not disappear as quickly. It’s a kiss meant to brand, to stamp the memory of  _ this _ deep into his skin. It’s firm but chaste. Merlin pulls back to press softer kisses in quick succession, almost as if he’s ensuring it stays. For as long as Arthur lives, this kiss will live with him. “Arthur. Arthur, I - ”

“Merlin, you deserve more than that,” he cuts across. He knows what Merlin is about to say. He  _ knows _ . He knows and he can’t let him. It’s infinitely more dangerous than a kiss and admitting to the desire that he has been feeling. It’s the point of no return. “You deserve more than I could ever hope to offer you.”

“Hey, th - ”

“You deserve a man who can just  _ be _ the man that you love…” A pronounced swallow to suck his sadness back into his soul. “...and the man who loves you in return.”

And it’s a wedge working itself between them, increasing the distance until Arthur is at the door, closing it behind him without a backward glance.


	5. ...I Can Be Free pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I finished this one early so I’m posting early. I know I left things on a tense end after a sudden reveal so I hope this chapter helps to ease your minds about the things that happened in the last. It is the second to last chapter of Within these Walls. Thank you for all who bookmarked, gave me Kudos and commented. I do hope those of you who stuck around enjoyed this ride as much as I did. It’s fulfilling to be at this stage where I’m near finished with a story - for the first time in probably 9 years. So, thank you everyone and enjoy. :)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the guest who left me that beautiful comment and great_reader121 who left me some really animated ones. Lol.

**_V._ **

**_All I want is to fly with you_ **

Merlin doesn't have much to do, a norm after he kissed Arthur and almost professed his love. It wasn't that Arthur avoided him as much as he just pretended he didn't exist sometimes. It's made it easier to pretend that he doesn't know the feel of Arthur's mouth, sweet on his, or the texture of his jaw or hair. It's been easier to pretend that he doesn't notice more about the prince, the lines of his body, the skin that peeks at the neck of his tunic, his fingers around the hilt. When it comes down to it, he's done the work that he was asked to do and no more. He's spent most of his free time on those days - when he wasn't studying magic - like he is spending this one: exploring the market in the lower town. With what he can spare from his salary, he's bought loads of books so far and gifted some new supplies to Gaius. Mostly he’s lost himself in things that he didn't get to be a part of as a servant working and living in the castle. He was almost grateful for the fall out between Arthur and himself.  _ Almost _ .

"Don't you have some chores to do?"

He near jumps out of his skin, spinning in a flurry of limbs. Hidden in a blue cloak that was never returned to him, Arthur unflinchingly avoids his wild arms. Under the cloak, he's wearing that stupid near sheer white tunic that makes him look rather raunchy and dreamy and Merlin nearly never sets it out for him for that exact reason. There's no belt to make it balloon so it's free to fall against the line of his chest and stomach...and groin. Is Arthur wearing… Merlin thinks that the black pants that Arthur's wearing is an older pair that don't fit as well since he bulked up with intensified training. It's pulled firm against his thighs and he really...really can't take in the entire ensemble without fainting. The hood of the cloak sits on blond hair that looks as though it hasn't been combed since yesterday and beneath a scattered fringe is a pair of bright, playful blue eyes. Arthur has walked up to him, looking good and proper like a chambermaid's midnight fantasy. He's not sure how he should behave with Arthur looking like this and looking at him like that after all the distance that seemed to stretch between them. He’s honestly torn between telling Arthur something insulting about the way he’s dressed and touching him inappropriately. 

"S-sire." He recovers quickly and inclines his head courteously, putting some space between them. "I have completed all that was asked of me, your highness." 

Arthur seems to studiously disregard this as steps even closer to him. He looks up and around thoughtfully but it's too innocent for Merlin to feel entirely comfortable with the motions. He has the distinct feeling that Arthur is up to something. He hums, "I swore I left you a bigger list. I didn't realize I was leaving you so much time to galavant,  _ Mer _ lin."

“I honestly didn’t think you noticed much of what I was doing,  _ sire _ ,” Merlin bites back before he can stop himself, his heart beating a little harder at Arthur’s boldness.

"How could I not?" The seriousness of the statement is tempered by the lightness of his tone but Merlin can't let the  _ hope  _ of it weaken him. "I've been watching you, Merlin, both as I should as your master and as I should not."  _ What is that supposed to mean…? _ "I might have gone about it the wrong way, but time apart did give me time to think about it all…"

Dryly as he walks off, "Well, everything's doomed even further than I thought…"

He hears Arthur catching up with him effortlessly. Even from the corner of his eye, he could see the striking image that the prince cuts in his little get up with the cloak billowing out behind him. The rueful look on his face doesn't help to dispel the air of romance and mystery around him and Merlin isn't sure if he's confused and angry or angry that he is confused in the first place. Arthur gains on him slightly to pause and say, "Merlin, I'm sorry."

"Is this the conversation that you want to have in a lower town marketplace?" He slows neither stops.

"I don't care where we have it, as long as we do," Arthur shoots back loudly in the growing space between them, "We can have it here, we can take to the training fields, the battlements, anywhere. I just...want to talk to you."

When Merlin does stop, it takes him a moment to look at the prince who nears him once more. He's been chewing this over in the moments when he can't forget or pretend to be glad. The moments when all he can think about is their kiss and the magnitude of it - the magnitude of its consequences - are the moments when he says these words slowly to himself, practicing. "I understand why you did it - "

"You do?" 

"Don't interrupt me, you prat," he snaps before resuming like he hadn't, "I understand why you did it. I know that it is not a simple life that you lead. I understand that in Uther's court, there are certain rules that you must abide by and a very specific role that you must play but…it was not what I deserved." Saying the words does not bolster his courage any further but he feels as though to fail to finish would be a grievous mistake. "You took away my choice from me. You were allowed to make an enormous decision about us and you didn’t give me a chance to be a part of it. You made a decision about my future and it was hardly fair. I don't think you thought about the sacrifices that I would have to make either that did not only involve you."

"Merlin…"

He presses on, "I know you think me to be a fool but I am fully capable of making decisions for myself.  _ I _ know what I am willing to risk.  _ I _ know what I can stand to observe.  _ I  _ know how I feel." He dares a glimpse at Arthur's hooded face and the mixture of sadness and pride hanging in a warm veil there surprises him mildly. "You could know this too… you could know how I feel, feel how I feel if you want but it's conditional." Arthur was watching him with an uncharacteristic patience. "You cannot disrespect or disregard me like this ever again. And in this, we are not prince and servant. We are just men...we're Merlin and Arthur."

The prince has his arms crossed in front of him by now, his chin tilted up arrogantly. However, there's no mark of irritation on his face. If Merlin is reading him correctly, Arthur is posed to challenge him but in jest. His eyes dance and the corner of his lips twitch up gently, almost as if to say  _ is that all _ ?


	6. ...I Can Be Free pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all and welcome to what was supposed to be the end of Within these Walls. I started working on a sequel then decided I would just expand this story instead. So we’re looking at FOUR more chapters. And the rating changes because I had planned to drop some sexy times in the sequel. You can stop here if that’s not your cup of tea. Thank you for your support so far. So enjoy. I hope you all enjoy the additional content that will come and this chapter. :)

**_VI._ **

**_All I want is to fall with you_ **

The marketplace is suddenly too crowded and too small for all that is said and unsaid between them. Merlin is looking at him strangely, almost as though he’s waiting for something to happen - what, Arthur couldn’t say and he couldn’t say if it would happen either. Aside from the obvious feelings of happiness and excitement, he’s incredibly proud of Merlin. It’s not that he would expect anything less than an iron spine from the other but his so obvious... _ Merlinness _ feels different - means even more - to him now. If nothing else, he knows that he’s an open book and Merlin can read all of his thoughts, his feelings clearly as they play out across his face. For the first time in a long time, he lets himself be vulnerable without begrudging himself the luxury. Of all the things that he could say in response, he finally decides that the most appropriate thing is, “Will you walk back to the castle with me?”

The implication is clear, he thinks.  _ Will you walk back to the castle with me so that we can continue this conversation in a more private place. _ The conversation seems concluded to him, if he’s being honest, but maybe the tail end of that one is the head of another, another that could be even more pleasant.  _ Wanting _ to let Merlin in as deep as he would dare to wander, he says as they start off, “You know better than anyone else the way that I feel about Camelot and my place here. I also don’t think that there is anyone else who knows how...my father makes me feel.” He sees the quick jerk of the other’s head in his direction. “I think it’s something that has affected me for much longer than I have dared to admit and it - well, it stops me. From doing...things.” The lameness of this is further emboldened by a vague, mildly confused and frankly directionless wave of his hand in front of them. “I let it stop me from doing things but I don’t want to live in my father’s shadow or under his fist for the rest of my life, certainly not when I am king.”

In a soft but strong voice, “If you’re going to let me down, you don’t have to drag it out, you know.”

Arthur’s anxiety spikes. “No, no, no!” His hands wave with the same lack of direction but infinitely more urgency. “That’s not the point at all.” Sighing and huffing, “I’m trying to...open up to you, to let you know my side of the story which is in agreement with you...Gods, why is this so difficult!”

“If you started writing your own speeches, maybe you’d be a more effective communicator.”

“And deprive you of the honor? Don’t be daft.”

Merlin’s laughter rings out, a little disbelieving, mostly carefree and, maybe, Arthur can disclose if only to himself that it hardens his spine and resolve to continue. “The point is,  _ Mer _ lin, I recognize that I am flawed, that my devotion to my father has damaged some part of me, gods willing not irrevocably." He really wishes that his voice didn't quail, that he didn't sound like such a hurt, little boy even when it was what he felt to be where his father was concerned. "I...can’t be made to choose between you and Camelot, Merlin, or you and my father. I can give you what I can now and my word that things will be different when I am king and that, more than anything else, I can promise that I want to just be a man in front of you."

The words are left to hang between them while Merlin thinks them through - at least that's what Arthur hopes that he's doing. It's a space for him to think as well, marinating in what was said to him. He also takes time to be grateful for the openness of the other's heart, regardless of how guarded he might seem. At the gates to the citadel, they pause, stalled by some unnamed instinct. Merlin turns to him, framed by the gateway and the courtyard beyond, and says resolutely, "I would never make you choose. Camelot must thrive under your hand for Albion to rise. That I am sure of and that is the cause that I am loyal to." His face starts to falter, full mouth hardening into a grim line. "And I would never ask that you give up your father for me, Arthur. I would give...anything... _ anything _ to sit with my father, to know him, for him to know me. I could  _ never _ ." When the line breaks, it’s a wobbly, brittle thing but the corners are quirked hopefully. “Besides, Uther’ s reign is a flame that will forge us into who we are needed to be, even if it blazes too much from time to time. And I have been chasing the dream that is Albion, my destiny and your cape through the forest along the way. My patience has been growing. I can wait.”

Hope bursts like a firing cannon in his chest, skyrocketing up to his face and blowing his mouth into a wide grin. "I'd like that. And, not to be presumptuous, but I am willing to go as far as you’ll let me until then."

With a wicked, saucy grin, Merlin winks at him and ribs, “Oh, I bet you want to go all the way.”

Realizing the implication behind his words, Arthur’s eyes widen and he scoffs, shaking his head. He closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath, the knots of the last few weeks freeing him from the disconcerting pressure. He is under no illusions that this new relationship with Merlin will be easy, nothing with Merlin has ever been but he knows it will be worth the trouble. “You know what I mean, Merlin.”

“I’m not even sure that you know what you mean,” Merlin says lowly, all grins and jests...until he isn't. “I do want you to know something, though…” He’d be scared if Merlin didn’t sound so hopeful about it. “I want you to know that the crown was never important to me and it never will be important to me when it comes to us. You have always been a man in front of me. Even as I serve the title of the Crown-Prince of Camelot and when I eventually serve the crown of the King of Camelot, I will never see that as all that you are. You are safe with me, Arthur.”

Slightly mystified, always humbled by this ridiculous idiot, "One day I will know you, Merlin. I hope that you will give me that chance."

With a small smile, “Of course. One day.”


	7. ...I Am Free pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so here we are again! The beginning of the rest of what would’ve been a sequel. This chapter is longer because I had intended on less chapters for the sequel. I may keep this length but updates may be every four weeks roughly now versus every two (roughly). If you’ve decided to stop at the last chapter, thanks for coming along for the ride up to that point. Those who are continuing down this road with me, thanks for being here. The burn heats up a bit but only minimally

**_VII._ **

**_So just give me all of you_ **

"Oi! Merlin, there you are!"

Merlin pauses and looks over his shoulder - Arthur in his repressed but flagrant fancy would claim - moving as though time itself had slowed its turning. The curious look morphs into what the prince would describe as a coy smile. When he licks his lower lip, Arthur's brain begins a disjointed, chaotic ricochet inside of his head. "Did you need me,  _ sire _ ?"

With a meaningful look and a derisive smile, "Something like that. Where are you off to?"

With a teasing smile, "I was on my way to your chambers, actually, sire. I've completed my chores for the day."

Arthur snorts and folds his arms, tilting his head up in challenge. "Have you now? I swore I could've seen a pair of boots that needed polishing…"

Merlin rises to meet his challenge, taking a step closer to him. Arthur doesn't doubt that he knows exactly what he's doing to him. His manservant has an odd gift of  _ knowing _ that he will not publicly recognize. His ridiculously pillowy lips skewed in a one sided smirk, "The ones that you're wearing don't count."

"Ha ha, so clever. I'll tell you what, Merlin," he says, pulling the other into his side and continuing down the corridor. The... _ forbidden _ -ness of hanging his arm with his intentions on Merlin, his fingers lightly teasing a sleeve, sends a thrill through him. The normalcy he craves shifts into this, this new, shrouded normal. "I'll race you to my chambers - "

Snorting, "What? Are we boys now?"

Smacking his manservant upside his head because old habits die hard, "No, you idiot, if you'd let me finish…"

"Alright, alright," Merlin grumbled, making a big production of trying to shove off Arthur's hand which only earned him stares of iron and ice from the guards in the corridor - not that it fazed him.

"As I was saying - " and he says it as obnoxiously as he dares " - race me to my chambers. If you win, you get the week off. If you lo- "

But Merlin had already darted off like a madman, near falling as he skated around the corner. Barely wasting a minute to shake his head, Arthur takes off after him, his leg muscles pumping and propelling him forward. Without the weight of his armour and mail, and sword, he feels almost weightless, like he's flying. It's been a while since he ran without the added pressure of saving his hide or for training; it feels good. He's almost on Merlin who looks back at him and, with an undignified squawk, scrambles faster. He supposes that all that time spent running behind him and the knights has done his manservant some good even if he still looks no thicker than a lance, if so big. It won't take much out of him to pass Merlin but he doesn't really want to. When they crash into his chambers basically together, Arthur ducks and charges to close the distance, grabbing him around the middle and near running them both into the wall. 

He spins at the last second so his back hits the wall and not Merlin's face. He lets his arms remain tight about the other's waist for a spell before shoving him away. It's one of the few times that he doesn't push Merlin away out of fear but just to keep the game going. A laugh escapes him in between pants as Merlin stumbles gracelessly forward. He can't seem to catch his breath and he really couldn't say whether it was the strong run through the castle or the exhilaration swelling in his chest, the powerful roll of freedom through him. His chest, not giving any indication that it's going to stop driving itself mercilessly like this, allows him another laugh when Merlin spins around to glare weakly at him, holding onto the back of a chair while he, himself, tries to catch his breath. The moment is everything that defines who he never thought they would be, everything they are and everything he wants them to be. This moment is everything. 

Arthur tilts his head back into the wall, looking at Merlin from under his lashes. The game forgotten, smiling wildly and to his own pleasant disbelief, "I love you too."

Of all the things that Arthur expects from Merlin in light of his confession, bursting into tears isn't it. He feels very conflicted about the whole thing given Merlin's previous strength and because Merlin looks strangely pretty as he laugh-sobs and swipes at his eyes. His whole face is flushed and the stickiness of his tears darkens his lashes. He can't help himself. "You're oddly beautiful, Merlin."

"Yeah?" His manservant replied, laughing more than sobbing but tears still streaming.

"This isn't really going as expected," he admits, "Honestly...I did not know what to expect but this definitely was not it."

There's more laugh-crying and sniffles and the entire time, Merlin's smudgy, watery, happy eyes are on him. Merlin isn't oddly beautiful, he's just beautiful. He just is. It helps that he's standing there just as awkwardly as Arthur is, shuffling around while he collects himself. Slowly, trying to both calm himself and capture Merlin's attention, he closes some of the space between them. 

"This can't be real," his manservant finally breathes out happily, his eyes rubbed dry but his flush lingering.

"Why can't it be?" He takes a few more steps, close enough to reach out and touch Merlin if he wanted. 

Merlin laughs incredulously - he's gone past trying to anticipate what's next and focuses on not feeling embarrassed - and throws up his arms, "You find me in the markets, looking like the hero of some...maid's late-night fantasy to confess, essentially… I know I took it rather well and I’ve been pretty calm about it all but… And now, little more than a week later, you chase me through the castle to say… to say…"

Arthur puts the fantasy comment on a back burner to pursue the thought left hanging. "To say what,  _ Mer _ lin."

He's not the only one who recognizes the layer of meaning that has been added to that intonation. The other swallows heavily and looks down for a moment. Meekly, "To say...that you love me."

Merlin's fingers are tangled together just under his lower lip, his head bowed. He is a picture of a shy saint who begs for Arthur to worship at his altar. It is this uncharacteristic restraint that urges him into the other's space. The man before him has always been so brash, so brave. It's easy to forget sometimes that Merlin also exists in the same world as he does and, while they are different, the other also has rules that he must play by that make this just as forbidden. He'd told Arthur just as much, hadn't he? He must be the push to Merlin's pull, pushing forward when he pulls back into himself like this, reciprocating the care that Merlin has never hidden from him. He has the chance now to witness what he must have done to the other when this was first put into motion. If Arthur squints he can see further reservations softly clicking into place around Merlin's frame, caging him in with his insecurities and anxieties. His frail confidence wavers for a blink but he can't stop now, can he? Arthur cups Merlin's knotted hands with a soft touch and lowers them gently. With the calculated restraint of the warrior that he is, he unravels these ties and loops his fingers with Merlin's instead. There is a finality to the gesture.

" _ Merlin _ …" Arthur drawls softly, savouring each syllable as they leave him. He raises their hands and presses a slow, dry kiss to the back of the other's hand. It would honestly kill him to admit that Merlin is a braver man than him but it's indisputable as he recalls the surety with which he had been kissed that first time. Testing it again, " _ Mer...lin… _ "

"I had no idea my name could sound so improper," the other blurts but disengages his hand with a confidence not found in his voice to hold Arthur's cheek. A breath is barely allowed to pass before Arthur wraps his fingers around the other's once more but from behind. 

"Merlin," Arthur murmurs, a slender thumb that is not his propped against the corner of his mouth. He's a soppy mess but sod it all. "My beautiful...clumsy...mess...of a servant. There is no one that makes my heart and skin yearn like you. I love you." Merlin sobs out a laugh. "I want you to always know and be warmed by this knowledge. I love you."

Only mildly teasing, "You've been practicing that, haven't you?"

"Bit obvious, was I?"

The thumb at the corner of his mouth shifts and brushes over his lip. "You deserve all the love that this world has to offer you. Let me be a channel for you to receive it."

If only to stop himself from falling to pieces at the sheer devotion he is receiving, Arthur prods and Merlin will understand, "Can't be bothered to say it back?"

'You prat' is a forehead knocking gently against his. 'You're insufferable' has become a nose rubbing up against his cheek. 'You know  _ exactly  _ how I feel' is intoned with a firm but chaste kiss on his mouth. They feel the weight of the oath between them. But for the sake of it, "The only thing that can rival the magnitude of my feelings is the size of your head."

They laugh briefly because Merlin was right. This can't be real. The world is ripe and rosy, blooming between them. They sigh together, studying the other's face, waiting for a sign that the moment is going to break. When it doesn't, Arthur whispers, "I would love for you to…say it please.”

In between one breath and the next, "I love you."

The feeling is indescribable. Softly, "Will you touch more of me, please?" 

The fingers of Merlin's free hand have found themselves, without hesitation, playing in the loose hem of Arthur's tunic. "My fingertips itch at the thought."

The hand on his shoulder drifts to the bare skin at his deep neckline and he can stand the distance no longer. He bends Merlin's arm with easy pressure to the crease of his elbow and steps right up to him. "Please touch me."

The other gives a short sound of surprise when Arthur walks him backwards into a chair, hooking his foot around another and pulling it close to sit. He feels a bit off-kilter in this free expression of his feelings. His thighs are parted wide for Merlin's to fit between them and there's the touch of knobby knees on the insides of his thighs. With such closeness, he can pick out small flecks of gold in the blue of Merlin's irises, yet another oddity to love about him.

"Are you going to return the favour?" If the other's face wasn't so rouged, the almost-steadiness of his voice would've hid his shyness. 

Wordless, Arthur reaches around his neck to unknot the neckerchief, allowing his fingers a slow warm slide over the milky skin of his manservant's neck. Fabric falling from his hands, he chases the thrill of  _ touching _ up to Merlin's ears. His lips find his fingertips on the plush flesh of the other's earlobe. He kisses it softly, feeling the stuttering of Merlin's breath against his neck. Daringly, he sucks it into his mouth, releasing with the barest scrape of his teeth. Merlin's entire body shudders. He can't bear to go too far and buries his face in the soft canvas before him, inhaling deep, fingers falling to shoulders, sliding down a flat, firm chest, landing on sharp but sturdy hip-bones. His fingers tighten slightly. Gods help him. He feels rather than sees a hand shift the neckline of his tunic, pushing it down to bare his shoulder. Lips skate down his neck to the cusp of his shoulder. Should his body be only ever measured in the width of Merlin’s lips, he would not make a protest. He would protest the prolonged pause of those lips but feels small brushes dancing around the stretched neckline, little licks of skin teasing his. 

Without conscious thought behind it, Arthur mouths and kisses Merlin's neck. It's all very tentative. He does it for the sake of  _ feeling _ . "I could hardly believe that you're letting me do this."

"Well," Merlin says, drawing back, his cheek brushing Arthur's, "I have a good reason both to and not to."

"You would suffer your prince, Merlin, and keep this from me?"

"I'm still in the process of forgiving you and we've not spoken about where we will go from here."

There’s no bite to the tone but Arthur feels it cut through the haze that’s enveloped him. As always, it’s the sagely nature of the other’s tone that really shakes him. He can’t withdraw - he can’t do that to Merlin again - so he focuses his attention on his hands and anchors himself in place. When he pulls back further to look at Merlin properly, he tries not to go too far. It’s uncomfortable to be in this position with this new feeling settling in. "That's fair. "

Carelessly, Arthur reaches forward and swipes his thumb over Merlin's plush lower lip and draws him near to press their foreheads together, just as they had weeks ago. He puts on his best princely voice, if only to speak with conviction and says, "I want all that you are willing to give me. Every quiet moment that we can possibly have within the walls of my chambers or yours or anywhere...I want them all. Any moment that you can spare. I will be with you on your terms."

The nervousness that clouds the stillness on his manservant's face is not what was anticipated in the slightest. He echoes, "My terms…"

"Yes," he reassures, made apprehensive by the hollow tone of the other, "On your terms. I know it's rather...uncharacteristic of me...but I, unfortunately, have less to lose should this go awry."

Deadpan, "You mean if your father finds out."

Shame-faced, "Yes."

Merlin leans all the way away from him, back into his chair and, as much as he wants to follow, he holds his position. Long fingers come up to rub a pointed chin thoughtfully. This feels like the verge of a disaster. As much as Arthur tries to keep his mind easy in the moments that pass as the other brood, it keeps braiding itself into complicated knots. 

"Please don't think that I'm having second thoughts. I can see you spiralling," Merlin says finally with a face that doesn't inspire much confidence at all. Tentatively, he leans into Arthur's space once more and takes his hands. "I have something to tell you."


	8. ...I Am Free pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, there. So moving swiftly along because I finished the chapter earlier than I anticipated (no promises for the same for the next). This story was only ever meant to have light angst, so I hope you all weren’t anticipating a huge fall out. I like to think that the interactions and reactions feel natural to the characters but if you disagree, please let me know (politely) and we can talk about it. Thank you and enjoy!

**_VIII._ **

**_It feels impossible_ **

When Merlin envisioned revealing his magic to Arthur, he never pictured that it would be in such a setting. Arthur seems to have a knack for looking like he'd stepped out of an ode to romance. Sometimes, he suspected it was intentional. Right now, his prince is looking at him with the innocent, trusting eyes of the boy he never really had the chance to be. His clothing is disheveled and his mouth looks ripe. Despite the anxiety that's visible there, he looks like he believes Merlin will do nothing to break this thing blossoming between them. Hesitantly, Merlin puts his thumb to the other's lower lip, pressing and skewing it to the side. The tip of his thumb finds the peak of an endearingly crooked tooth. Could this be one of the last touches that they shared? With Uther in power still and Arthur still living under his thumb, there is no guarantee that he would remain safe within the walls of Camelot. But could Arthur really watch him die? Or would he exile him? He did not lie when he told Arthur that he would not ask him to choose between his father and Camelot and himself. How could he even think of putting Arthur in such a position? It's not necessary for Merlin to remain in service to the prince to protect him and fulfil his destiny. He would find a way...but it would hurt to lose him over something like this. There is also the issue of lying to Arthur. Even if Arthur takes his confession well, he was lying and had been lying for years now. But what else could he have done? When the other nips his thumb, he realizes how long he's been silently brooding. Arthur gives him a small, hopeful smile. It's an adorable little thing. Imagine that? He can barely grasp it. To see Arthur so vulnerable, even if it is meant for him makes him feel like an intruder. This is different to the tortured moments Arthur's shared with him, different to his bumbling confessions in the market. This is a soft, precious moment that he could easily be on the verge of crushing. It is with no small sadness that he realizes that he could break the prince's heart. But how could he let him live a lie?

"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur prods gently, his smile a little tight at the corners but the nudge of his nose against Merlin's palm is comfortable.

Without any sort of preamble, "I have magic."

"I know." And they both recoil. Arthur shakes his head, his face twisting in confusion. "I mean...no. No, I did not know that. Yo-you have  _ magic _ ?" 

Merlin watches with despair as Arthur's face falls into a slack mask of betrayal. When he jumps up, toppling the chair and nearly falling over it in his haste to put distance between them, Merlin is not at all surprised. He just silently lets him. The other's face cycles through reactions near silently as his hands comb roughly through his hair, his eye contact sporadic. Then he starts pacing. Above all else, it's a bold and bleak sadness striped across his prince's face and it nurtures a bud of self-loathing nestled inside of him. This is the hurt he wants to save him from. It takes more than he thought to stop himself from trying to make an escape, even more to restrain Arthur with magic so he could explain. But to what end?

"Did you enchant me?" The prince asked weakly, his face flushed with a desperate plea. 

Affronted, "So, I could become your bedroom secret? No, sire."

Dismayed,

"Then… why? Why are you revealing this  _ now _ ? Why now? How long?"

"I was born with it," Merlin says, rising carefully, "I only began studying it when I came to Camelot. I had to tell you, Arthur, I couldn't let you be with me without knowing. Magic is who I am."

Arthur charges towards him at that and grabs him by his biceps. He breathes heavily through his nose, watching Merlin with a jaw locked. His fingers flex a couple times then hold firm. "If magic is who you are then who were you to me?"

When Merlin mirrors the other's posture, the prince keens softly at his touch, a low, wounded sound. "I have always been me to you and magic has always been a part of that. Don't you know why I couldn't tell you?"

"My father would've had you executed if he found out." Arthur could barely maintain eye contact but his hands are as sure as the steel of his sword. Merlin imagines that he can hear the cracks running through the other's heart with each bit that they speak. He can hear a chisel striking nearby but when he looks to his hands, they're full of tunic and muscle. He knows this is his doing. "How could you ever think...that I would let you die, Merlin? Even before...before I felt...this way? How could you think so little of me?"

"And what would become of you and your father if you defied him over my life?" He leaned in a bit, daring Arthur to follow him. 

Taken aback, "That is what concerned you?"

Hotly, "I wouldn't want you to be put in a position where you had so much to lose."

Sadly, "You didn't think that you could have trusted me with your secret."

Sighing, "I couldn't be sure at first. You have a good heart but...your father's grip on you…" He takes a deep breath and steels himself. He's watching the prince wilt in front of him but he's certain that there is enough iron in his spine to support them both. "Then I was sure when we spoke about magic as a tool and I planned to tell you but all of this romance exploded in our faces."

Looking up sharply as something dawned on him, Arthur accused, "You weren't being an arse when you said that you'd been protecting me or that I wouldn't last without you. You...were using magic to...save me, weren't you?"

Merlin won't lie, the accusation in the other's tone - as if it were the worst thing to be saved by him - spikes his annoyance. "Yes, you great prat. You'd think you would sound more grateful."

Like the great brute that he is, Arthur shoves him down into the chair he'd previously vacated and pushes his nose up unceremoniously with a scolding finger. Leaning over and into him, his eyes clouded and mouth scowled petulantly, "It's hardly fair for you to be annoyed at me when I have to absorb that you've been lying to me for years. Not only have you been lying to me, you idiot, you've made a fool of me and tainted my honour."

Slapping the prince's hand away boldly and rising to stand nose to nose, "I hardly cared about honour when you could have  _ died _ ." Arthur, pig-headed to a fault, refuses to back down and they're caught in an intense stare off heated enough to burn Camelot to the ground. "I didn't do it for glory, Arthur, or to take glory from you. I did everything I could to  _ save your life _ and for a myriad of reasons."

"Tell me."

"What?"

"Tell me why."

Exhaling hard, "You are my destiny. It was prophesied long ago that you would unite the lands of Albion and return magic to the land. And I would help you to do it. So I did it because you were my destiny, then because you were my friend and because I love you." Bold, he steps in further and lays his cheek against the other’s. "I've been told that we are two sides of the same coin. However that manifested...whether we were just meant to be friends or to be more...you are my other half and a key to a better world for all of us and I cannot bear to lose you. I would have let  _ nothing _ stop me from keeping you alive, not your honour, nothing."

Arthur sags slightly against him, his head falling into the crook of his neck and he nearly topples. He feels the other's heavy breaths against his skin. Faintly, "How tired you must be, Merlin, knowing you live such a thankless life." 

The prince pushes him away with no real energy and turns his back. He rights the chair and walks to the window on the other side of the room. He holds his fingers up to his mouth and spins the ring on his forefinger idly with his thumb. After a few breaths he says flatly, "I need you to tell me all that you've done. I need to know that there are no more lies between us." 

With a hopeful grin, "I can do that. Should I - "

Arthur holds his hand up to stop him. "You said you didn't enchant me but have you ever used magic on me or against me or against Camelot? I need to hear you say it."

Somber, Merlin gets down on one knee and places his fist to his heart. The prince seems dumbfounded by the act. "I, Merlin Hunithson, have never used magic against you, Arthur Pendragon, or Camelot. I have used magic on you to heal you. I have used magic on you to comfort you and there is a piece of my magic that resides in you to protect you."

Slowly, Arthur crosses the room and offers his hand to him to help him up. His face betrays his neutral tone. "Explain the last bit."

So Merlin shows him.

This time the net is visible and it creeps over their joint hands and cloaks the prince. His surprise becomes hazy and his body loosens. He looks deep into the swirling gold of Merlin's eyes. When Merlin draws it back, the silence is reminiscent of the preluding moments to their first kiss. "For a time when I wanted to hold you but I could not." Then he draws the bead of magic from Arthur's chest, measuring the prince's reaction carefully. "For times when I am not at your side." 

"How tired you must be to live such a thankless life," the prince repeats forlornly, staring at the little gold bead between them. Gently, he guides it back to his chest, his mouth a small 'o' at its obedience. He looks grim but Merlin’s heart soars at the gesture, hopeful. "Go fetch lunch for the both of us. When you return you will tell me everything."

"I can do that," Merlin says again with a confident smile and a squeeze of the hand still clasped around his. He is hopeful that things will somehow be okay. Arthur looks like he's aged decades in the minutes they've been speaking but there is still a gleam of that trusting innocence in his gaze when the other looks at him. Merlin believes that Arthur knows that he's the same old Merlin. He believes that Arthur knows the very heart of him and sees the truth in his words despite the sting to his pride. There are still points in the narrative that worry him and he feels like this is delicate and Arthur can still flip but he  _ knows _ that his prince would not harm him. He takes comfort and confidence in these things, raising Arthur's hand to his lips and imprinting his promise there. The other's eyes soften and his mouth turns up at the corners softly. 

"You know that I will need time, don't you?" Arthur says carefully, "Time on my own to process this. It is...a lot. I just...need to be alone with my thoughts for a while and I do not wish to have a repeat of last time so I'm letting you know."

"So I get the week off then?" He teases, waggling his eyebrows, but he understands. He's always been very good at offering Arthur these little outs. "I did win the race after all."

"Only because I let you, you fool!" Arthur bites back, unable to help himself. Then, with a shove and rueful smile, "Take two."


	9. ...I Am Yours pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! So sorry for the late update but I’ve been in the middle of renovations at home in addition to some writer’s block. I think you can easily see a lack of inspiration in this chapter but I think it’s sufficient to move the plot along to get to the next. We have one chapter left and it’s basically just fluffy smut to tie things together. Thank you all for your patience. Hope you’ve been having a good holiday. Happy New Year!

_**IX.** _

**_Is it impossible?_ **

  
After the expectedly disastrous lunch that they had when Merlin detailed his use of magic in Camelot it takes five and a half weeks before Arthur calls Merlin back into his service. Merlin remained hopeful despite the poor turn the conversation had taken. Arthur had smashed a sword repeatedly against a shield of magic around him (erected at Arthur’s request so as to not hurt him) until the blade broke in half then had continued until there was only hilt left and had thrown the hilt at him the minute his shield had been lowered. It was hard not to keep the faith though, especially when Arthur kissed him fiercely before tossing him out of the room. Even with chores for Gaius, Merlin found himself once more with a lot of free time on his hands. He was baffled beyond reason when he found out that Arthur had banned him from the library temporarily but tried to occupy his time studying magic and medicine versus exploring like he had previously. He and Arthur did not have an invisible wall between them like before but it did take a while for things to normalize a bit. For the first week, Arthur only smiled at him in passing or greeted him briefly. By the third week, they had met several times on the battlements to further talk about some of the things that Merlin had revealed. Arthur had a lot of questions that he’d forgotten in his sword-swinging rage. After the first few times he'd been asked to draw out the magic he'd left with Arthur for the prince to look at it, any notions that he had imagined what gave him cause for hope were dispelled. After the fourth request to see it, Merlin had changed the weave of the spell to respond to Arthur's call. It was the first instance where he could see the prince softening toward him. The energy between them had grown warmer and more familiar as they discussed his magic from that point onward so when he was called to return to the prince's service, it wasn't a big emotional production for him.

He takes the stairs two at a time though there's no real need to rush, a small tray of meat pies balanced in one hand and a jug of warm spiced wine clutched in the next. It wouldn't hurt to treat Arthur, sweeten him up a little bit. He tried his best to look sharp, dressed in a newer navy tunic that hadn't faded yet and a red neckerchief that wasn't as frayed. His hair was a bit of a lost cause as he hasn't gotten around to cutting it but maybe Arthur would find it as endearing as the chambermaids. He's even managed to gather some flowers for the prince's table - not that Arthur would do more than rib him for it - and tried his best to remember that they were tucked into his belt at his back. Managing a balancing act that requires but a wink of magic, he opened the doors to Arthur's chambers. However, he damned near dropped everything when he entered. 

"Haven't you heard of knocking, _Mer_ lin?"

He's heard of having the breath knocked out of him. He's in the middle of one such episode, right now. The bloody prince is _sprawled_ on a chair that's been moved to the centre of the room. He's wearing the same get-up that he had been at the markets, _the_ outfit. If his thighs had been closely clad in those pants before, it's only by the gods' grace that they haven't split from the way Arthur's thighs bulge in them. Thick...cut...thighs… His mouth is suddenly dry. Of course, Arthur is smirking at him, his thumb playing with the ring on his finger and his finger playing at his lower lip. The God forsaken white tunic's neckline sits haphazardly on his shoulders, bearing the firm slope at the base of his neck. The light sprinkle of chest hair peeking from the deep V is a secret language that he wishes to dedicate his life to studying. His hair is damp and sort of pushed back, sort of falling over his face. There's a flushed, dewy sheen to the prince's skin that causes the tunic to stick to him in some places, making it even sheerer. It hangs as it had in the markets, no belt to stop it from falling neatly against the contours of his hips and groin. His sprawl obviously means that his legs are thrown wide and there's no doubt that this is an invitation. Arthur is the carved statue of an angel breathed to life. 

His wicked mouth is slicked quickly by his tongue before lips part and he calls as he leans forward, " _Merlin."_

"Arthur," he says in a whoosh, breathless but unwilling to own it, "You called for me."

The prince stands, shoving back most of the hair that had fallen into his face. He approaches in an unhurried way, his hand sweeping through his hair then down his neck to rest gracefully on his chest. Despite all of the heat and fantasy swirling around him, his eyes are youthful, clear and bright. “Yes, I thought it was time for us to move forward properly.” With a regal flourish of his hand - it is exaggerated for the sake of a joke, “I thought we could have dinner.” The tray of pies and jug of wine seem cheap in front of the meal piled on top of Arthur’s table. “And I hoped you’d stay with me after. We could talk and spend some time together, given how much of it we had apart recently. I had them prepare a bath for you and the servants' chambers have been cleaned and readied.”

"Are you trying to seduce me?" His voice is a bit on the weaker side but how could it not?

Arthur flushes all the way down to his neck like he wasn't just licking his lips sultrily and looks down shyly. "I was trying to be clear about my intentions."

"And what are those?" Merlin prompts, stepping up to the table and resting his bounty down. He picks leisurely at some vegetables on a plate. He finds it easier to tease when he isn't distracted by the sight of Arthur.

The prince is at his side, tangling their fingers together and leaning in with a look earnest enough to make a priest faint. "I want you by my side," he says unashamedly, despite the flush all over his face, "At all times, I want you near. I want to know every piece of you as well as I know myself and even better. I _intend_ to know you so intimately and to let you know me just as. One day, we won't have to hide and I want you to feel comfortable walking into that light with me. Meaning...comfortable with who you are walking into that light with.” Arthur, for the very first time, leans in to take Merlin’s lips in a cautious but sweet kiss. He sighs softly against the prince’s lips, allowing Arthur the room to lead this moment. As he withdraws, their lips pulling apart slowly with the tackiness of their skin, “We are part of the same destiny but I never want you to feel as though that destiny is a burden you carry alone. For so long, you have and I’ve been a silent pawn in the game but now that I know...you will never be alone.” Hands go up to the back of his neck and loosen his neckerchief. “Why don’t you get into the bath and I’ll feed you some dinner?” They’re both grinning at this, Arthur’s arms loosely around his neck, his hands swinging free. “Like a shy servant out of a chambermaid’s midnight fantasy, maybe whose only desire is to please his master.”

His whole face wrinkling up as he snickers, "You can scarcely keep a straight face!"

Tightening thick corded arms surely around his neck, Arthur came in as close as he dared. Merlin could openly admit that he loved the ease with which the prince slid into his space and more than loved the comfort on his face and in his posture. Taking his second kiss, Arthur says, "Because you're utterly ridiculous, Merlin. Now hop in before I change my mind. I’ll get the food.”

He looks at the screen set up for his privacy and smells the gentle fragrance of lavender wafting out of the warm water. There are fresh suds sitting on the top of the water, more than likely to preserve his modesty and - of all things - rose petals. His face breaks into a stupid grin. He could hear the roll of Arthur’s eyes. 

“What are you on about now?”

The stupidity of his happiness complicating itself further on his face, he reaches behind him and produces the small bouquet for Arthur’s inspection. Arthur scoffs lightly, freeing an arm to take it. Lowly, “Edelweiss, for the courage that we have shown and must show going forward, strengthened by Chamomile for energy in adversity.” With his free hands, he plucks a few out and breaks the stems to rest them artfully in his prince’s hair. “Rosemary, for remembrance, so that you may never forget what you mean to me.” He put a sprig behind each of Arthur’s ears. Arthur who was watching him with eyes so loving it could end him. “Yarrow for love.” Beaming with pride, he observes the wobbly arch of white and green over Arthur’s hair. “A fitting crown for a beautiful prince.”

“You’re such a girl.” But the way Arthur’s voice breaks all over the words, his face pink, his hands making no move to disturb the wonky crown and his eyes wet with emotion let Merlin know that there’s absolutely no fire behind it.

So, he takes a chance and crowds Arthur, his hand going up to knot firmly in short, blond hair. The dominance of the gesture is baldfaced. The sheer magnificence of his prince so open and soft like this emboldens him. Nearly lip to lip, cheeky but low and firm, "I'm ready for that bath. Are you ready to serve me?"

When Arthur steps back he thinks that maybe he's pushed a little too far but his hand is still where it is, maybe loosely now. The adoration is clear on Arthur's face and there's something else. There's something, something defiant but in a way he’s never seen it on the prince’s face. Arthur isn’t going to fight him, no that’s not it. Lightning cracks purposefully in his eyes and thunder booms as the Crowned Prince of Camelot falls softly to his knees before his manservant. 

How blessed he feels in this moment to have this angel fallen before him. Caught between the sunshine of golden hair and the storms of blue eyes, Merlin’s magic thrums to his fingertips. The magic he’s left In Arthur rises to meet it and there are sparks firing and flowers blooming. Fingers twist in the hem of his jacket and there really isn’t anything else to be said. 


End file.
